


Bossy

by Wireslide



Series: Bossy [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gay Disaster Shiro is my jam okay, M/M, Or how to read them, Shiro doesn't always know how to handle Lance's moods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 10:36:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16830955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wireslide/pseuds/Wireslide
Summary: Shiro thinks Lance has been sulking. Turns out, Lance has been plotting.





	Bossy

Lance had been sulking all week. Shiro thought it was the lack of time alone, or Keith had run his mouth again, or Hunk had made fresh macaroons and not shared, maybe. But three hours had passed of them curled up on the couch with a plate of untouched cookies on the coffee table, and Lance was still sulking. He had three texts from Keith swearing that he hadn’t said anything sitting on read in his phone. He raised his hand to bury his fingers in Lance’s soft hair, frowning when the younger man didn’t lean into the touch. “Lance, what’s wrong? Are you mad at me?”

“Mad? No.” Lance gave him an unreadable stare, then sighed and leaned back to blink up at him. “No, I’m…” He sighed again, dropping his eyes to where he had already started picking at his cuticles. “I wanted to ask you something and I don’t want you to think I’m being weird but I wanted…” His face scrunched up, and Shiro could feel the frustration tightening the younger man’s muscles.

He shifted his hand, brushing Lance’s hair back and relaxing a little when he leaned into his palm. “Hey. Tell me what you want. I promise I won’t think you’re being weird.” He offered Lance a smile when he peeked up from the metallic curve of the prosthetic.

Lance took an extra beat to assess Shiro’s body language before nodding and looking back at his hands. “I want… I want to be bossy,” he said it in such a rush, Shiro had to take a few seconds to replay the words. He felt his heart skip a beat and silently reminded himself that it was Lance that caused that feeling any more, and not his eradicated disorder.

He found himself looking at his wrist anyway as he carefully repeated, “bossy?” in a way he hoped wouldn’t change Lance’s mind. He hoped.

The paladin let out an explosive huff, half-turning to settle his knees against Shiro’s thigh. “I want to tell you what to do within reason and have you do it just because I said so,” he elaborated, finding enough enthusiasm about the idea to forget his embarrassment, “like, in a sexy way, not like, I think I should outrank you.”

 _“Quiznack,”_ Shiro couldn’t stop the epithet from popping out, and scolded himself for the amount of glee he could feel bubbling up inside, “uh. Okay. If you want to be bossy, I can be–” he couldn’t stop the little grin, and ducked his head to press a kiss by Lance’s ear. “I can be good.” His mind was already bogged down with ideas of things Lance might order him to do, and his voice had slid easily into the breathy husk the paladin often inspired.

It earned him a sly grin from Lance, and he peeked up to press a kiss to the corner of Shiro’s mouth. “Awesome because I have some stuff I want you to try on.” He popped to his feet, out from under Shiro’s hand before the older man could protest, and only paused when he reached the doorway to the hall. “Hey, uhm. Lu and Coran say you’re part Altean now because of the magic stone thing, so if like…you start hurting because I’m being a tease, tell me. Or if I tell you to do something you… can’t. Standard safeword applies.”

“You haven’t used it since we established it, so double-checking that it’s ‘mule-kick,’” Shiro gave Lance a smile when the paladin nodded, and sighed when he left the room. He could feel his thoughts swirling, alternating between too fast to absorb and too slow not to fixate on. Lance wanted to give him orders 'in a sexy way.’ Shiro had always had a soft spot for hands-free domination–or a hard spot, he supposed–and couldn’t stop thinking of the things he’d do if Lance ordered him to.

In fact, he couldn’t think of a single conceivable scenario in which he would use their safeword, and that frightened him a little. The idea of saying 'no’ to Lance and meaning it was incomprehensible, and Shiro knew that wasn’t healthy. He crammed a macaroon in his mouth to try to stop that train of thought before it could take off, and instead enjoyed the rich coconut flavor.

“Hey, those are meant to be savored, not inhaled,” something about Lance’s voice had changed, and Shiro suddenly realized that the younger man pitched his vocal tone up slightly as a rule. Fragments of stolen memories reminded him that he dropped his voice when he felt in control. It brought goosebumps to Shiro’s arms.

He tried to hastily swallow the cookie, to apologize, but his mouth had gone dry. He coughed, almost choked, and accepted the small bottle of milk that Lance hurriedly brought him with a look of gratitude. Once he had his mouth clear, he ducked his head. “Sorry, I was thinking about something else.”

Lance smiled, reaching out to brush back Shiro’s thick bangs. “Were you thinking about me being a tease?”

“Not exactly,” the taller man said honestly, “but I was thinking about you.”

He sighed contentedly when Lance leaned in to kiss him, melting into the sure way the Cuban’s mouth moved on his. He immediately resolved to let Lance 'be bossy’ whenever he wanted. He felt his lungs seize for the tiniest fraction of a second when Lance leaned back and whispered, “good boy,” against his parted lips.

He couldn’t stop the tiny sound that slipped from his throat when Lance leaned back instead of kissing him again, or the one that followed when he turned away to pick up the tasteful paper bag he’d dropped by the end of the couch. The bag settled into Shiro’s hand and he blinked. It was heavier than he’d expected. He tucked the fingers of his prosthetic into the top of the bag and looked to the paladin for permission. When Lance smiled and gave him a nod, he opened the bag and peered inside.

He saw satin and silk and lace and fine tulle, in several different colors, and he pulled out an aqua satin camisole with lace trim and held it up to his chest. He looked up at Lance with wide eyes. “How did you know my size?”

The smaller man reached out to press his thumb to Shiro’s mouth. He caught his breath when those full lips eagerly parted to let it in, pressing until he pushed down on Shiro’s tongue. “I asked someone who knew. I want you to wear a set tomorrow, under your uniform. Which color is up to you.” He tightened his grip on Shiro’s lower jaw for a moment, before he slid his hand free and leaned in, licking over the slick trail he’d left. He tipped his head slightly to keep Shiro from leaning in for a kiss. “Are you still going to be good?”

Shiro’s breath caught again, feeling his lower lip quiver. “Yes, sir,” he breathed.

Lance let out a raspy gasp, kissing him again possessively. His tongue swept through Shiro’s mouth possessively, before he pulled back and got to his feet. “See you tomorrow.” He picked up the plate of cookies, biting down a grin at the muffled whine Shiro couldn’t contain, and walked out the door, leaving Shiro with a bag full of lingerie, an erection, and the lingering smell of coconut.


End file.
